


Mr. Vogue

by icymapletree



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A slight bit of angst, Canon Compliant, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Harry Styles in a Dress, Harry Styles’ Vogue Cover, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, but it is now, but mostly fluff i promise, i don’t know any of the usual tags for larry help, i think that about covers my bases, so much fluff bro, thats not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icymapletree/pseuds/icymapletree
Summary: The dress itself was beautiful, cascading Louis blue lace sectioned off with black trim. Black ribbon was tied in a bow for straps, and Louis was in awe of how much of the dress there really was.Harry was usually the calm and collected one out of the two of them, but he was slack-jawed and his eyes were sparkling.It distinctly reminded Louis of the first time Harry had painted his nails.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 163





	Mr. Vogue

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends!
> 
> long time no see, eh?
> 
> if you’ve clicked on this, and you’re from marvel, hello, i didn’t think i’d see you here, but welcome! if frostysunflowers is here for whatever reason, hi! look out for a surprise coming soon. it might have something to do with what we talked about a couple months back before i went on hiatus (which was not in fact permanent like one directions is looking to be lmao). but yeah, i promise, marvel coming soon. i’ll probably do febuwhump to get back in the groove of writing peter and tony again. 
> 
> a couple of thank yous before we get started:
> 
> thank you to h4e! you give me the confidence to be myself.
> 
> and a special thank you to cc who said some very kind things that managed to get me out of my writers block. she’s also the one of the best britpickers/betas and got rid of the americanisms from this fic as well as helped it flow. love you!! you do so much for me, don’t know where i’d be without you.
> 
> all mistakes are my own and isn’t that angels fault. :D
> 
> also, this is a work of fiction. the louis and harry and everyone else in this work are characters. i do not claim these events have actually happened. 
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR POST TO ANOTHER SITE.
> 
> now, without further ado: Mr. Vogue.
> 
> **EDITED 02/10/21**

“Lou?” Harry groaned, his voice heavy with sleep as he fisted at the sheets. Louis’ breath ghosted over his thighs, and he was putting his mouth dangerously close to Harry’s crotch. “Get out from under there, we don’t have time for this,” Harry said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

Harry lifted the sheet off of Louis’ back as he reached for the waistband of Harry’s boxers. Light leaked into the tented blankets, Louis’ pupils shrinking as his and Harry’s eyes met. Louis had seen many versions of Harry’s eyes over the years; from the muted olive they became in the thick of their closetting, to the sparkling emerald they were ten years ago. Currently, they were closer to the latter, now that Harry had finally realized that no one was threatening to tear them apart, not anymore.

“What are you doing?” Harry groaned again, wiping his eyes. His hips involuntarily lifted off of the bed from the few light touches Louis was permitting him.

“Looking at you,” Louis responded, and Harry tilted his head.

“It seems like that’s all you’ve been doing lately,” Harry laughed breathily, “that, and watching footie.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” Harry smiled, “because I have you to myself.”

Louis poked his finger at Harry’s chest as he straddled his lap. Harry’s hands gravitated towards Louis’ hips, his palms bracketing Louis on both sides. “Hey now, don’t sell me short. I’ve been writing a lot, too.”

They’ve both been writing a lot-- writing _together_ , even-- and the only thing they seemed to be able to produce were cheesily romantic songs that their friends would probably laugh at.

“I know you have,” Harry said, leaning in so close that he was inhaling Louis’ exhale. Louis closed the last bit of distance, pressing his lips to Harry’s. After a moment, he pulled away and patted him on the cheek.

“Go get ready, Mr. Vogue.”

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to hold back a smile, but his dimples were threatening to pop.

**X**

The kettle screamed as Louis grabbed a packet of tea from the cabinet. It was Yorkshire Tea, an old favorite from his time on the road with the boys.

He turned off the gas burner on the stove, and reached for the handle to the cabinet above the dishwasher that kept their mugs. He grabbed one that Harry had always been particularly fond of, a white mug with rainbow colored phalluses decorating the outside.

Minus the mug, their entire house belonged on Pinterest. The whole place was a result of Harry’s eccentric tastes, which were budding even as a sixteen year old. He’s always been an ethereal wood nymph-- it’s about time his home decor matched that.

Louis, on the other hand, didn’t have much of an opinion when it came to interior design, so he let Harry do as he pleased as long as he agreed to put up Louis’ fairy lights. Beside that, whatever Harry did with the house didn’t bother him - it was Harry's world anyway, he was just living in it.

However, he did like to let everyone know that he was the one who painted their door pink.

Speaking of the door, he heard it creak open as he poured the hot water into his mug. The low rumble of Harry's voice trailed after the approaching footsteps, and he could hear Harry's usual spiel about having to couchsurf at eighteen years old-- despite that being entirely untrue and easily debunkable.

Stunt talk like that used to be the type of thing that they would fight about, but they’d long since learned that it’s not worth it. All of it is contractual and they’d signed off to it.

“I’d went in for the first time and I cried,” Harry said, muffled through the walls, “because I just felt like I _had_ somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Harry and the reporter were in what Louis has deemed Harry’s ‘man cave,’ an alcove of guitars, posters, and vinyl records. He said as much to the reporter when Harry guided him into the kitchen, which earned him a laugh.

Louis swirled the liquid around in his mug, holding it tight to his chest as he took in the sight of Harry. He was gripping a yellow bandana mask in one of his hands, wearing trackies and a sweatshirt of his own design, but even in day clothes Harry never failed to do things to Louis.

“Good morning, love,” Harry said lowly, slipping an arm around Louis’ waist and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “This is Hamish.”

Louis introduced himself. “Hello,” he said, “I’m Louis.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hamish said with a curt nod. He was a short man with light colored hair and a middle part that somehow managed to look like a combover. A pair of thick glasses rested on his nose, and his overall appearance reminded Louis of Marcel. He held back a snort. Hamish seemed like a perfectly nice man, but Louis doubted he’d appreciate being compared to a character from a 2013 boyband music video.

“How was the pond?” Louis asked.

“Cold,” Harry laughed, shaking out his hair like a dog.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Louis sing-songed. “Would you like some tea, Hamish?” Louis asked, “You don’t have to have a dick mug if you don’t want.”

Hamish considered it. “If a penis mug is the only one you have, that’ll be quite alright.”

“Lou,” Harry whined, squeezing Louis’ side.

Louis smiled and batted Harry’s hand away from his hip. He reached for a mug, selecting a simple one and placing a teabag and water into it. “We’re out of milk, hope black tea is alright.”

“Quite. Thanks,” he said, taking the mug from Louis and waiting for the tea to steep.

Harry stared at Louis like he wanted something from him. Louis rolled his eyes. “Would you like some tea too, darling?”

“Yes,” Harry smiled, happy that he didn’t have to ask. He sat on a barstool at the counter next to Hamish as he awaited his tea. As Louis poured the water, Hamish and Harry made small talk.

“I assume Mr. Tomlinson here was one of the five you stayed with during lockdown?”

Harry nodded. “Of course. I try not to go anywhere without him,” he laughed, “But it’s good to be back in London. We’re closer to our family this way. But I would love to move to Tokyo, if only for a little while.”

Hamish nodded. “My partner and I had always tried to stay close to our families, but it did get hard towards the end.” He took a sip of tea. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“So, so nervous,” Harry smiled, running his fingers through his hair. Along other things, it had become somewhat of a tick when he was twenty-two. They had mostly gone away since the hiatus, and cutting his hair had helped, but the ticks still emerged during moments of overthought. “I haven’t gotten dressed up since, like, June.”

Louis shared a knowing look with Harry, thinking back to when they had put on some nice clothes for a romantic picnic out on the lawn before Harry left for Italy and France and Louis had gone home to Doncaster. They had slow danced under the stars and Louis’ fairy lights, Louis’ arms slung around Harry’s neck with Harry’s two large palms a grounding presence on the small of his back. It was in that moment that Harry leaned close, and in a whisper confessed that he might want to do something a little different for the Vogue shoot, maybe wear a dress outside the confines of his own home.

It had always been there, Harry’s intrinsic need to wear more feminine things, but it never made him any less to Louis. He was always _Harry_ , with his bumps and bruises, skin like a sketchbook and genuine kindness.

That night, Louis had whispered sweet nothings to Harry, old nicknames emerging all the while Louis ran his fingers through the curls that were a part of the boy he had fallen in love with.

Hamish spoke then, breaking them both out of their thoughts. “Well, what have you been wearing over lockdown then?”

Harry laughed. “Sweatpants, constantly.”

“And those crusty Vans of his,” Louis said, gesturing towards Harry’s feet. Harry extended his leg and glanced at the shoes, flexing his toes.

“Hey now. They’re not that bad. You bought them for me, and besides, the pink lace and the dirt add something, don’tcha think?”

“They might need a wash,” Hamish said, sipping his drink. “Well, Harry, Louis, I think it’s time we continued with the interview. Thanks for tea.”

Harry downed the remaining liquid in two big gulps, handing his empty mug to Louis who put it into the sink to be washed later. “Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Harry asked Hamish.

“Sure,” Hamish nodded, taking one last sip of his tea and leaving his mug on the counter. Harry led the way, guiding Hamish into the library. As Hamish went underneath the door frame, he turned to Louis.

“Good luck to Harry tomorrow. I hope to see you lads together in public soon,” he said, before following Harry who was babbling on about _Watermelon Sugar_ and _The Architecture of Happiness_.

**X**

Louis was anticipating anxious hysteria from Harry that night. It had happened before the Met Gala, tears stemming from pure nerves-- both because he was the youngest chair, and because he was breaking a boundary he had set for himself years ago. Harry, of course, had killed it-- but this was a little different. His Met Gala outfit could be chalked up to him being quirky, his queerness an accessory rather than a part of his identity.

But both Louis and Harry knew that this was one step further than the Met Gala. A dress was just fabric, sure, but that wasn’t how it was seen in the outside world. Harry didn’t want the backlash; he just wanted to exist.

He had worn a dress before, sure-- but that was more low key. His fans knew about it, but not the casual listener who knew him for his radio hits.

This was different; it was _Vogue._ He’d be the first person born male to be on the cover solo-- and if things went according to plan, while wearing a dress. It wasn’t like he was the first man to wear a dress, but this was _Harry,_ the same boy who had donned white shirts, black skinny jeans, and chipped nail polish while fighting a management who wanted nothing more than to box up his personality and get rid of all the nuances that made him uniquely Harry. Louis had almost worried that Harry had taken on too much at once for with this shoot.

But this was all Harry, and it was all his decision. Louis would support him no matter what. So instead of worrying, Louis tried to get Harry to uncurl from himself and curl into Louis’ front instead. The nerves were there - they always were and always would be. Even if they were present to a lesser degree than when he was in his teens.

Although, tonight he seemed unusually calm.

“H? You alright?”

Harry hummed, nudging his bum against Louis’ front and sliding into place like a puzzle piece. Louis’ arm found its place around Harry’s torso and he sniffed into Harry’s shoulder.

“Smell good?” Harry asked, his voice so low and sleepy it was hard to hear.

“Smells like your cologne, love,” he said, which wasn’t a lie, but there was something so uniquely Harry about the way he smelled, like Tom Ford tobacco vanille and his green apple shampoo. So much like the boy he was and the man he became, all at once.

Harry reached for Louis’ hand over his shoulder, playing with his fingers and twirling around Louis’ wedding ring. Moonlight streamed in through their bedroom window, the metal band shining and taking him back to memories of their wedding, quaint and intimate but everything he’d ever wanted. Harry, oblivious to his nostalgia, sighed. “Wish you could wear this all this time, Lou.”

Louis nuzzled Harry’s shoulder. “Me too,” he said, taking a deep breath in of _Harry_ and kissing his shoulder. He still needed to broach the subject of the shoot tomorrow, because Harry was so stubborn there’s no way he’d bring it up on his own. “But at least you get to be a little more you tomorrow, hm?”

“Yeah. M’still nervous though. Only a little bit. But I shouldn’t be nervous because what I’m doing shouldn’t even be something to be nervous about. Like, I’m not even all the way out. I don’t face anything that real queer people do.”

Louis' heart dropped. “Baby, turn to face me.” Harry made a noise of indignation, but Louis waited until he and Harry were nose to nose and he could use an arm to pull him in as close as possible. “You _are_ a real queer person, Harry. Just because you are closeted doesn’t make you any less a part of the community.” He took a deep breath. “And you have every right to be nervous. There are still assholes out there. They’re not gone just because the world is a little more accepting than it was ten years ago.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m doing something revolutionary.”

Louis chuckled to himself a little bit. “It’s not revolutionary, Haz, per say-- you have to give credit to the people who paved the path for you. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be revolutionary for you, as Harry. Maybe the world wants to see Harry Styles wear a dress on his next tour.”

“Don’t know if I could do that, to be honest.”

“That’s alright, love. One step at a time,” Louis said, and sealed the small distance between his and Harry’s mouths, kissing him lazily until they fall asleep.

**X**

“Harry! We have to leave!”

“M’coming, m’coming.”

Louis put the last of the dishes from breakfast that morning in the sink and brushed his hands off on his trousers. “What’s that?” he asked Harry, wagging a finger at the book under his arm.

“Oh! It’s, uh, _The Architecture of Happiness_. I promised Hamish I’d bring him a copy.”

Louis snagged the keys off of the hook by the door. “On a first name basis with the editor-at-large of Vogue, eh?”

“You were as well, don’t act like this is news.”

Louis held the front door open for Harry. “Fair, fair.”

The car ride was quiet and the air was charged with more excitement than nerves, which Louis hoped was in part because of their talk last night. Louis was the one driving, because Harry couldn’t even be trusted to drive on a good day.

“Play Stevie,” Harry whined, “She always helps me when I’m nervous.”

“No, the driver gets to pick the music,” Louis said, turning up whatever Green Day tune was lightly playing through the speakers. “Besides, you’re not even nervous. I can tell.”

“Am too.”

“Nope,” Louis said, popping the ‘p,’ “You just wanna listen to Stevie.”

Harry crossed his arms, but a smile lit up his face when Louis sighed and pulled out a _Rumors_ CD from the center console. “You’re lucky I love you. And, y’know, I think the rest of Fleetwood Mac would be upset that you just refer to them as ‘Stevie.’”

“Nah, they get it,” Harry said, putting the disc into the player and disconnecting Louis’ aux. “Didn’t know you had a _Rumors_ CD, though.”

Louis shrugged. “I like the sound quality. Besides, this album has always helped me when I’ve missed you.” Harry turned to look at Louis, and for a moment Harry looked like he was going to cry. Instead, he leaned over and gave Louis a quick peck right as the guitar from ‘I Don’t Wanna Know’ began to play over the speakers. Harry reached for the volume knob and turned it up resoundingly loud.

Harry began to yell-sing, “I don’t want to know the reasons why!”

Louis laughed, singing along when Harry wasn’t being the natural-born performer he was meant to be, even just for an audience of one.

“Oh, you say you love me, but you don’t know!” they sang together, and it started to remind Louis of late nights on the tour bus spent with three other boys powered by leftover adrenaline and a sound system.

When the song was over, Harry turned down the volume and glanced at Louis. “Jeff wants to pull me further away from the band.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked, his eyes darting to Harry before darting back to the road.

“I don’t want to tell him no, because it’ll disappoint him that I don’t want to.”

Louis pursed his lips. “You don’t have to be over the band, y’know?” Harry nodded. “That was five years of your life, H. You don’t see people just _not_ talking about uni.”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed, “How did I end up with such a smart husband?”

“Mh-hm. You love me.”

“I do,” Harry nodded, his smile bright and his dimples coming out to play as they intertwined their fingers. The album continued to play in the background as a quiet hum, the British countryside passing through their windows like snapshots on a postcard.

When they arrived at the shoot, Harry Lambert is there, of course, donning the pearls that have become signature to ‘Sue’ and ‘Susan.’ Harry gave the book to Hamish with a shy smile, and the hustle and bustle of the set had amped up now that the star was here.

Louis lurked in the corner, like he always did with these things. Mood boards are set up all around the room, and he caught glances of Harry pointing and agreeing with some of the things the lead photographer was saying.

It was at this point that Gemma arrived in all her quiet glory, slinking up next to Louis almost as slyly as he had arrived himself. “Watching the rockstar?” she asked, leaning up against the wall.

“I’ve been watching him for ten years, why stop now?”

“Fair point,” she laughed, not hesitating to go all in on the latest happenings with Styles. Anne’s doing well, she told him, but it’s only after a few moments of relative peace that Hamish finds them. Gemma was happy to give him more than a few quotes, going crazy with stories about Harry as a kid.

“That man can turn anything into an interview, I swear.”

“Well, it’s his job, innit?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Louis flippantly waved his hand. “Look, he’s going back over to Harry. I bet he asks about _Dunkirk_ next.”

Surly enough, moments later he heard Harry talking his movie from across the room. Louis rolled his eyes, but he watched the way the crew shifted around Harry, like he was the center of the room’s solar system. “How did I get so lucky? I’ve got a bloody moviestar-rockstar or summat for a husband.”

Gemma laughed. “Or summat,” she agreed, “Not sure if you’re lucky or unlucky.”

“Oh, hardy-har.”

Even when they moved outside, Louis stayed pleasantly ignored except for the couple of little smiles Gemma and Harry sent his way. He watched as Harry paraded around the field in a hoopskirt and tulle, only joining Harry when he was donning a white robe and looking out at horses.

Harry’s eyes immediately brightened when he caught sight of Louis, beckoning him forward and pulling Louis into his chest, nearly knocking off Louis’ baseball cap. Harry rested his chin on the top of Louis’ head. “We should get some horses, don’t you think?”

Louis hummed, leaning back into Harry. “Don’t know who would watch them, love.”

Harry harrumphed and they continued to stand there, watching nature for a couple more long moments. “Will you come with me to the next shot?”

“Of course, H. All you had to do was ask.”

**X**

It was Harry, Louis, and Harry Lambert in the room as Harry put on the dress for the first time. It was made with his measurements, but needed so,e light adjustments.

The crew on set were taking lunch as they piled into a secluded room of the Victorian mansion on set. Harry’s nudist tendencies had decreased since he was a teenager, but he still seemed perfectly content sitting in an expensive plush chair in just his boxers and an untied robe.

Louis sat next to him (fully clothed, thank you very much) with Harry’s hand clasped in his. In his other hand, he loosely held his phone and scrolled through Instagram. Harry stared at the wall, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb over Louis’ knuckle.

The only sound was the ticking of a grandfather clock and light chatter coming from the main area of the house. Louis clicked off his phone, slid it into the pocket of his jeans, and unclasped his hand from Harry’s, using his now spare hand to massage Harry’s neck. Harry leaned into the touch, some of the tension flooding out of his body.

Louis sighed, moving his hand up to card through Harry’s curls, probably pissing off the stylist in the process. Still, Harry didn’t speak. “What’s going on up there?” he asked finally, hoping to get some insight into Harry’s busy head. He might talk slow, but his thoughts moved quickly and without abandon.

Harry blinked. “M’just thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?”

Harry inhaled. “I think I have a melody going. I don’t think I’ve felt this many lyrics floating around since I wrote ‘Kiwi.’”

“Write them down, love, you’ll regret it later if you don’t,” Louis said. Harry had a tendency to think of tons of melodies and lyrics all at once, and then immediately forget half of them as soon as the inspiration fled.

“That’s easy for you to say, you think in song.”

Louis swatted at Harry’s arm and took Harry’s hand again. “I don’t think in song, silly.”

“No, you definitely do, you’re a liar,” Harry responded, his accent swooping on the last word.

Louis hummed, letting the conversation dwindle. He focused on the point of pressure where Harry’s hand was held tight in his, heat radiating from that spot like it was his life force. Harry’s gaze danced across the floral wallpaper - he was probably counting the flowers on the wall, to be honest. Counting had always helped with his nerves.

Harry’s head fell onto Louis’ shoulder, Louis unwrapping his hand from Harry’s to return to playing with his hair. Louis smiled and nudged his nose against the crown of Harry’s head, playfully but softly asking “What’s this dress gonna look like anyway, hm? And don’t tell me it’s gonna be that blue of yours.”

Harry had the decency to look sheepish. “I…”

“No, of course,” Louis laughed, punctuating his chuckle by pressing his lips to Harry’s curls. “And I had to find out from bloody Twitter that you were being a diva about the color blue because you wanted it to match me fuckin’ eyes, love.”

“You know I’m a romantic,” Harry mumbled.

“I know, I know. I find it very lovely-- _romantic_ \-- that you put that color everywhere. And, how ironic is it that the color is called _Louis_ blue and it matches me eyes. Made to be, I think.”

“It’s poetic, it is.”

Louis hummed an agreement, and comfortable silence resettled until Lambert returned. When he came in, a couple of the assistants from the set were holding the tulle off of the floor as Lambert carried the dress form.

The dress itself was beautiful, cascading Louis blue lace sectioned off with black trim. Black ribbon was tied in a bow for straps, and Louis was in awe of how much of the dress there really was.

He hadn’t noticed, but he was bracing himself on Harry’s bicep. He loosened his grip and looked up at Harry’s face. Harry was usually the calm and collected one out of the two of them, but he was slack-jawed and his eyes were sparkling.

It distinctly reminded Louis of the first time Harry had painted his nails.

“Come on over, H,” Lambert said, with an overdramatic gesture toward the dress. He motioned for the on set assistants to leave. They did, and the last one out cracked the door. Harry was running his fingers over the lace before Louis even had a chance to blink.

“It’s gorgeous,” Harry said, “Who’s it by?”

Lambert clucked his tongue. “I’m sure you can guess.”

“Gucci, right?” Harry said, fluffing the lower levels of the skirt. Louis stayed pinned to his spot on the rug, too excited and nervous to see what his person would look like in a dress almost as beautiful as him.

It was a bit of a process, getting Harry into the dress. There was just so much of it, and Harry wasn’t exactly a small man. He stepped into it, rather than sliding it over his head like Louis had thought he might do.

Adjustments were made to the straps, Lambert tying the bows a little tighter. Louis just stood back and admired Harry. Both of them were smiling like idiots.

Lambert looked between the two of them and smiled before fake gagging. “If the two of you stop eye fucking and just kiss already, that would be great.”

Now that he was given permission, Louis found himself in Harry’s arms. He was surrounded by Harry in a different way than usual, rather than just being wrapped up in _him_ , he was also cloaked in ruffles that embodied his husband so much that it was unreal.

There was the scrape of stubble and press of lips, and wasn’t long before his senses were completely overwhelmed. Louis only pulled away to cover Harry in compliments.

“It’s like this dress was made for you, Haz.”

Harry considered that for a moment, mulling over the right words to say next. “Yeah well, I bet _your_ ass would look so good in this dress,” Harry said lowly. Louis knew that Harry had a tendency to deflect compliments, but he also knew he needed to make a point of telling Harry how good he really looked. Harry was really happy, Louis could tell, but it was fragile happiness that could be taken away by a negative comment. Because under it all, Harry was _human_. Not an unattainable womanizer rock god.

“My ass is made for something a little tighter. But H, _your_ ass looks great.”

“You always think that. It doesn’t count coming from you.”

“Well, that means I know when it doesn’t look good,” Louis said, emphasizing his point with a peck. “Not many people can pull this off. But you look fucking incredible, okay? And if anyone says otherwise, their opinion doesn’t--”

Harry cut him off with another long press of his lips to Louis’.

Lambert doesn’t even bat an eye, cocking his head and giving a content hum. “Looks like it fits, right, H? We’ll do the dress shots next then, hm?”

Harry, still with his lips pressed to Louis’, nodded.

**X**

They gathered out on the field, the gray skies fading for a couple beautiful moments, allowing sunlight to fall upon Harry and brighten the entire atmosphere.

Harry was all smiles, even the crew helped him carry the mass of tulle into the grass. He kept glancing at Louis, as if to say ‘look at me, I’m doing it!’ Each time, Louis gave an over exaggerated thumbs up and a genuine smile.

The busyness of the set continued around them even after the big moment, Louis once again privy to all of the behind the scenes work. It reminded him of a bee hive, the way in which the set was synchronized at the deepest level, almost like it was biology.

When the sun began to set over the horizon, they only had a few more pictures to snap. Harry wore a pleated skirt with a leather band and metal details for the last photos they took, his eyes illuminated by the warm sun. Louis did what he usually does, offering words of encouragement when needed but ultimately just staying out of the way.

After Harry got up from his pose, someone that shouted it was a wrap, cheers and whistles sounding and Harry’s smile blinding. His eyes met Louis’ right away, and Louis returned his smile, but allowed his partner to celebrate among the crew, designers, and creative team. This wasn’t his achievement, this was Harry’s-- and he couldn’t be prouder. He was just there for moral support.

Louis loved attention, he really did, but thoughts of another life infiltrated his mind. One where they met in London after becoming psychologists and Harry became a true rockstar later on. Or even a world where Harry became famous at the same time he did, but met Louis at a bar, or through a mutual friend. There was no doubt in Louis’ mind Harry was born to perform - to change the world, even.

But for a moment, Louis wondered what it would be like to just be _Louis Tomlinson, supportive husband_ among the faces of stardom instead of _Louis Tomlinson, former member of the biggest boyband in the world._

But those thoughts were fleeting, because he would give anything up to see Harry as happy as he was right now.

He talked to a particularly interesting crew member while he waited for Harry to change. She didn’t seem to know who he was - even in relation to Harry - and that was nice for a little while. Especially when Harry approached the pair of them in trackies and a sweatshirt, his tufts of hair tied back with a scrunchie.

“Babe, you ready?” Harry said, dangling the keys.

The lady looked like she was about to pass out, but the two of them just laughed it off. Louis said his goodbyes, and they left the set, waving at everyone as they climbed into the car.

When they started on the road, Harry was asleep almost immediately, which was nothing different from their first day-long photoshoot when they were sixteen and eighteen respectively. Harry had just woken up when they pulled into the garage, smacking his lips and leaning over to kiss Louis’ cheek.

He stayed close to Louis’ face. “Thank you, love,” he said, his breath warming up Louis’ skin before he pulled away.

“Anything for you, Harry.”

When they went inside, they promised it would be ‘just tea’ before bed, but it wasn’t long before their shirts were shed and Louis was sitting on the counter, Harry between his legs. Heat was building between them, their lips moving slow. It didn’t take much before Harry was grabbing Louis by the waist and hanging him over his shoulder, ignoring Louis’ protests that after his big day, Harry was too tired to carry him, and that since he’s strong enough, Louis should carry him instead.

Harry gently tossed Louis onto the bed, trying to lead the kiss, but it wasn’t long before Louis flipped them so he was on top. Some of the anxious heat evaporated, leaving them wrapped in a warm intimacy that could only come from ten years of learning each other’s bodies.

Louis peppered kisses all the way down Harry’s torso. Harry squirmed, his palms gravitating toward Louis’ scalp.

“H, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Louis said, peeking up at Harry with wide blue eyes while spreading kisses all over Harry’s golden skin. Louis didn’t waste a second, sucking a mark onto Harry while a rosy blush settled on both of them.

**X**

_”I’ve never seen you in a dress before, hm?”_

_\- Louis Tomlinson, 2011_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i’m glad to be back. please go check out my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/icymapletree)
> 
> i will be writing a mix of fandoms from now on, so please expect anything from wolfstar to zimbits to larry to irondad to gwemj. 
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, please reblog the fic [post](https://icymapletree.tumblr.com/post/642839417778782208/mr-vogue-by-icymapletree-53k-t)!
> 
> love you all! see you soon


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